


Passengers

by AngeliqueNothing



Series: Bang! [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Harley Quinn (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Can We Kill Guy?, Consenting Adults, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Freeform Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Harleen Quinzel - Freeform, Harley Quinn - Freeform, Healthy Joker/Harleen Quinzel, I Have NO Idea How this Got LONGER!, I Promise We'll Kill Him Later, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jarley - Freeform, Jarley Freeform, Joker (DCU) Angst, Joker (DCU) Has Issues, Joker (DCU) Played by Jared Leto, NSFW, Non-violent Joker, Nonabusive Joker and Harley, Origins, POV Alternating, POV Harleen Quinzel, POV Harley Quinn, POV Johnny Frost, POV Joker (DCU), Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seriously He's a Douchecanoe, Sexual Abuse, Shit there's plot now, Smut, Stjepan Sejic, The Joker - Freeform, Verbal Abuse, We Don't Like Guy Kopski, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordcount: Over 10.000, You Have Been Warned, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliqueNothing/pseuds/AngeliqueNothing
Summary: What if the Clown Prince of Crime, The Jester of Genocide, The Joker, no longer needs to pretend to be something he isn't around Harleen Quinzel? What if we see a different side to him? A side even he doesn't know exists? What if we see behind the curtain that is Harleen Quinzel to the damaged person under the perky exterior?This is a continuation of the Bang! series, and while it IS helpful to read the first smut-filled story, it's not necessarily needed...though it IS strongly requested!I've separated the Dubious Consent/Non-Con into its own chapter so you're able to skip if this is a trigger for you.
Relationships: Guy Kopski/Harleen Quinzel, Jarley Relationship, Joker (DCU) & Harley Quinn, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Bang! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080917
Comments: 25
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you'll see, this one picks right up where the last one left off (if you haven't read the previous story, you really should, though it is by no means required to read this one). We get to see Harleen's home life, which is not pretty, and part of it is separated into its own chapter for trigger purposes (more on that at the end chapter notes). We also get to see the continuation of Joker's evolution, which I have LOVED writing! 
> 
> For this one, I pulled a bit from the Stjepan Sejic graphic novel Harleen. If you haven't read it, you really should! His art is some of my favorite where Joker is concerned! 
> 
> Towards the end of this chapter, there is the beginning of Dubious Consent, though it stops at his physical abuse of her. I've tried to cover all of the bases with the additional tags but there are a LOT of abuse/consent tags, so if I've missed one, please let me know and I'll add it. As always, take care while reading, please!

Leaving Joker’s office was one of the harder things Harleen had had to do in recent years. She still wanted to strangle the huge bear of a man that was leading her down the stairs. She knew it wasn’t his fault that she was leaving, but he was the one leading her away, so the blame fell to him, poor thing. Harley can be heard in the back of her mind humming a jaunty little tune that had Harleen skipping the rest of the way down the stairs, even if the good mood was marred by having to leave. It was rare that they were in full agreement, but tonight’s unexpected pleasure had put them in full agreement.

The car ride home was quiet. The big man, Johnny Frost if she remembered correctly, didn’t seem to talk much, and she was too busy trying to think of a plausible explanation for not getting ready in view of Guy for the next week to really pay him much attention. Thankfully she got ready a good deal earlier than him most mornings, and he was so drunk most evenings that he didn’t pay her much attention. She just had to get through this weekend undetected and then it’d be easy-peasy.

She thanks Frost for the ride as she exits the car and gently places her keys in the lock, trying to be as quiet as possible. As soon as she’s eased the door open though, she shakes her head as she realizes that she needn’t have worried about being quiet. She could have been a herd of stampeding elephants and Guy, passed out drunk on the couch, would never have noticed. Her lips curl at the sight of him and she can’t help but wonder how she let this happen. Shaking her head, unwilling to deal with it for the moment, she walks to the bedroom, kicks her shoes off in the general direction of the closet, peels off the sweatpants, and crashes into bed, barely pulling the covers around herself and snuggling into the shirt that smells like _him_ before falling headlong into a deep satisfied sleep.

Waking the next morning isn’t the chore that it usually is. She can still feel the ache between her legs that amazing sex can bring and can feel the marks from the previous night peppered across her hips and ass. Slowly reaching down to feel a bruise on her hip, Harleen bites her lip and lets her fingers travel that last little bit further to lightly stroke over her aching folds. She imagines the fingers lightly stroking her are Joker’s as she slowly pushes two fingers into herself and begins rocking her hips into them. The other hand travels under the shirt, pushing it up to play with a nipple, imagining what it would feel like to have his lips locked around her areola, tongue flicking her nipple the way her fingers now are. She pinches her nipple, rubbing it between two fingers imaging it’s his teeth, as her other hand starts to play with her clit, flicking back and forth against the sensitive bundle of nerves. The fingers at her clit pick up speed as her other hand travels to her neck where she can still feel his teeth marking her, his tongue delving out to play with the broken skin. The remembered pain and pleasure of his teeth claiming her as his tips her over the edge and she quickly turns her head to scream into the pillow, bucking her hips against the fingers on her clit.

After the shudders of her climax subside, she sighs and stretches. Her body feels languid yet ready to take on the world. And while the orgasm she’d just given herself wasn’t as good as either from the previous night, it’d do. Smiling, she gets out of bed and pulls the shirt down, grabbing a pair of fresh underwear from the drawer in the closet and rolling up the sleeves of the shirt, ready to take on the world.

xxxxxx

Startling awake, Guy is immediately annoyed at having been awoken by the sound of Harleen banging around somewhere in the house. He can feel the headache forming behind his eyes and hates her in that moment for having the audacity to wake him before his body is ready. But then he smells the strong scents of bacon and coffee and is immediately a little less annoyed. If she had to wake him, at least she was cooking.

Wait. She was _cooking_?

He couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked. She only did it when she was in an exceptionally good mood, and that hadn’t been since…when had she cooked last? The time she received her offer letter from Arkham after her internship? After she’d started treating her first restricted level patient? Fuck, how long ago had that been? Over a year by his quick calculations.

Standing, he quickly runs his hands through his hair and goes to change from yesterday’s clothes.

Returning from their bedroom, he smiles as he walks into the kitchen. The sight of Harleen shaking her ass while she dances around the kitchen in nothing but one of his nice shirts that falls almost to her knees, flitting from one thing to another is a sight he hasn’t seen in some time and has him instantly hard. He doesn’t remember that particular color of dark plum, but maybe this is her way of giving him a new shirt? He gives her ass a broader smile and watches her shake it for a moment more. He can’t tell yet if it’s a tune in her head she’s dancing to, or if she has earbuds in, but he uses her distractedness to his advantage as he moves up behind her and slides his hands under the shirt to caress her hips. Using his hands on her hips, he roughly pulls her ass towards his tented sweats, grinding his still-covered cock into the crease of her ass.

xxxxxx

For a moment, her brain is confused. She feels Joker sliding up behind her and pulling her hips towards his already ready cock. Her eyes close as she relishes the feeling of him teasing her body, rocking into her. She leans her head back against his chest, ready to abandon breakfast and let him fuck her over the table when her brain catches up to what her body is really feeling and she realizes it isn’t J behind her at all. The chest is a bit too squishy and her head is almost on his shoulder, which isn’t right, it should be lower.

Deftly dancing out from the hands attached to her hips, making it look as natural as possible, she plasters on her best Harleen smile and chirps, “Morning!”

“I made coffee, and I figure you might have a headache, so there’s a Bloody Mary already prepped in the fridge for you, just like you like it!” she continues in her “perky” voice to Guy. She knows if she changes the tone of her voice now, after having just rocked into his body, he’ll start asking questions, maybe losing the good mood he seems to be in. And she’s in a good mood damn it, she refuses to let him ruin it for her!

She can hear a plaintive, “Har _leen_ , come back here baby,” behind her, but she just returns to her cooking.

“Breakfast will be messed up if I don’t get back to it Guy,” she says, forcing a smile as she looks over her shoulder at him. He hasn’t wanted anything sexual from her in over a year, has honestly barely paid attention to her for more than a few minutes. And those few minutes usually only involved yelling or on a few occasions, hitting. She didn’t want to _deal_ with this right now. She’d been having a good morning!

xxxxxx

“I don’t care about the breakfast baby, I need something else this morning,” he says, creeping up behind her to pull her back against him again. He lets her quickly turn the stove burners off, and this time, for good measure, he reaches in to fist the hair at the crown of her head and pull her head against his shoulder. Using the hand in her hair, he moves her head this way and that experimentally, seeing what she’ll let him get away with today. She doesn’t fight him at all, having gone almost boneless as soon as his hand reached into her hair, so he removes the hand from her hip and reaches down the front of the shirt to one of her perfectly perky breasts.

Pinching her nipple roughly, he uses the hand fisted in her hair to push her head forward a bit to attack her neck. Her neck has always been one of his favorite parts of her. Long and lean, regal almost and so pale that he could see the veins of her neck pounding away.

But something wasn’t right. Looking down at her from this vantage point, with one hand fished in her hair, the other pulling the shirt to the side, he can see that something isn’t right and his vision becomes cloudy with the rage boiling up. Her neck, which should be flawless and almost see-through, is bright red at the junction of her neck and shoulder, almost purple in spots.

Throwing her bodily away from him so that she has to catch herself against the counter, he sees her turn around so that she’s facing him. His hands fisting at his sides, he growls, “Take the shirt off Harleen.”

When she begins to shake her head, the rage begins to boil over and his vision goes red around the edges. Before she can finish the denial she thinks she’s going to give him, he steps up to her, fisting his hand in her hair and pulling her face towards him.

“Take it off voluntarily, or I’ll rip it off,” he says through gritted teeth. He fists his hand harder in her hair for a moment before letting her go, violently throwing her to the side again.

With shaking hands, she unbuttons the shirt and slides it off, placing it on the back of the kitchen table chair nearest her. When he makes a twirling motion with his finger, she complies with no complaint this time, knowing what will happen if she refuses.

Truly getting a look at her makes the red around his vision intensify. She is _his_. How _dare_ she! Those were _hand_ marks on her hips. There was _another_ fucking bite mark on her ass cheek along with multiple handprints. How many men had she fucked last night while he thought she was at the gym?

He may be fucking several women on the side, but this woman in front of him was _his_. If he wasn’t fucking her no one was. Breathing through his nose to regain his composure, he lets out a deep breath and looks Harleen directly in the eyes.

“Penance is important Harleen,” he says softly. The gentleness of his voice, he knows, is worse than if he was yelling. It lets her know that pain is coming, and that she’ll take it willingly. He’s made sure to condition her so that she knows to take her penance with thanks on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for this next section, we get into the active abuse and VERY Dubious Consent, and what might easily be considered rape. I felt it was important to include what happens to her and not gloss over it, so I've included it, but I also know that it's a HARD trigger for a LOT of people, so I've placed it in its own chapter. If this may trigger you, please skip it. I've tried to put an extra "xxx" and breaks where I feel it gets even darker, so if you're able to read some of it and need to skip the rest, you're kinda good to go. I do not take her rape lightly, and it is hinted at in the third chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that this is extremely dubious consent at best, rape at worst. Please take care while reading this and know that I did NOT take posting this section lightly.

“Did you fuck them Harleen?” he asks patiently while stalking slowly around her.

He can see her shoulders round in, raising towards her ears, trying to hide her face behind a curtain of hair. “Yes,” is said in little more than a whisper. Smart slut that she is, she knows better than to lie at this point. Lying will only make the punishment for her transgressions worse.

Walking in front of her, he caresses her full bottom lip while the other hand reaches down to her cunt, stroking slowly. “Did you fuck them with your mouth or your dirty little cunt, you whoring slut?” is whispered into her ear.

Her hands fisting at her sides so she doesn’t interfere, she whispers, “my cunt,” as he continues to stroke said body part. Smacking her folds with enough force that her body jumps a bit, he smiles viciously. The next question, the most important question, will be what determines her penance.

“Do you regret it Harleen?”

He can tell that she struggles with the answer to this one. She clearly wants to lie, but knows lying is not allowed. After a time, she brings her hands up to her breasts, trying to hide them, to hide herself, as she says, “No, I don’t regret it. I feel guilty about _not_ feeling guilty about it though.”

If she’d said that she regretted it, that it would never happen again if given the chance, he might have just taken her to the bedroom, tied her up, and fucked her there to show his dominance. But this creature in front of him that only regretted getting caught needed to be taught a deeper lesson in who owned her. She may feel the other men’s bite marks for the next week, but she’d remember her penance every time she had to take a breath, every time she had to swallow. She’d know who owned her, and it wasn’t whoever had fucked her the night before.

Walking behind her, he gently runs his hands over the top of her hair before fisting his hand in it and whispering in her ear, “Penance must be paid, must always be paid for our wrongdoings Harleen, and this will be yours.”

Dragging her to the small round table by the hand in her hair, he pushes four fingers into her still-tight cunt with no warning, curling them inside of her. Using the hand in her hair and the fingers in her cunt, he lifts her up and on to the table, slamming her down more forcefully than strictly necessary. Letting her lay there a moment, he caresses her body from her cunt to her breasts, reveling in how gorgeous she is, even while marred with someone else’s marks. She was still as tight and toned as she had been back in college when she was on the gymnastics team, though her figure had filled out a bit since she’d quit doing it full-time.

Trailing his fingers along her body so very lightly, he crosses around to her head and, without warning, grabs a handful of hair at the crown of her head, pulling her further back on the table until her head and neck are off the edge of the table and she has to grab the edges of the table for support. Releasing her hair, he pulls his sweats down around his ankles and begins to fist his cock, making sure he’s as large as he can get.

Looking down at her, he smiles as he says, “Lean back, open wide baby and take it all.”

Placing the hand not fisting his hard cock next to her shoulders, he watches as she obediently opens her mouth so that he can slide his cock into the wet recesses of the mouth that still belongs wholly to him. Sliding slowly in, he lets her throat remember how to deepthroat him, using a hand on the table with the other hand moving to her sternum for leverage. She used to be so good at this, fucking him with her mouth all the time in college. He was so surprised the first time she’d deepthroated him and so thankful each time after that she’d agreed to let him fuck her mouth. It had been so long and it felt so amazing to be delving into the delicious heat of her mouth, the tight confines of her throat.

Finally, he is able to get his cock to the back of her throat, past her gag reflex, his balls flush against her face, and the sight is glorious. As he begins to slowly fuck her open mouth, the sight of his cock making her neck bulge as he enters it is a fucking sight to behold. He only wishes he could use the hand on her chest on her neck instead. But the last time he’d left visible marks, his mother had happened to see them, and he’d been thoroughly chastised. He knew better know. Leave marks where no one will see and there would be no trouble. So his hand stays on her sternum and presses down more firmly than necessary, using it as leverage to begin to really move. He can hear her choking a bit at times and can see the tears and spittle streaming into her hairline, but he’s past caring.

“Yes baby,” he moans. “That’s it. Remember that you’re only good for the holes in your body that you present. They didn’t fuck you last night because you were special,” he says, ramming his cock forcefully into her throat, faster now.

“You’re nothing special. Easily replaced.” Moaning, he uses everything he has to force his way down her throat, bottoming out each time, her throat bulging when he passes her esophagus. “How could anyone want you for more than this?”

The little sound that comes out of her throat at this is his undoing. He curses and moans and pushes his cock into her throat one last time, holding it there as his cum spurts down her throat.

He can hear her choking a bit on the forced throat of cum, but he holds there, forcing her to swallow. And swallow she does, good girl that she is. She knows that there’s no spitting it out. He’d taught her that lesson a long time ago.

Pulling his cock from her mouth, he strokes her throat as he puts himself back away in the sweats that had fallen to his knees. “Such a good girl, such a good girl to take your penance without a word of protest,” he praises her as he strokes the throat that is still trying to gulp air in.

Grabbing her biceps in each hand hard enough that he’s sure she’ll bruise, he drags her bodily from the table and lets her fall to the floor. Making sure he digs his hands in just a bit harder, he leans into spit his vitriol in her ear, “Now, go wash yourself up. You’re disgusting and I won’t have disgusting whores in this house.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Past the icky part of chapter two! FINALLY you get your Mistah J!

The last thing Harleen hears as the world goes black is, “Penance must be paid, must always be paid for our wrongdoings Harleen, and this is yours.” She wakes huddled around herself, sitting on the shower floor under a freezing torrent of water. She hadn’t lost time in years. She knows it was one of the others taking the punishment for her, knows that she wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror if she had to remember it, but that doesn’t make her like it any more. She knows that sometimes with Dissociative Identity Disorder, one personality will protect the others and a form of dissociative amnesia happens. But it hadn’t happened in so long that she’d naïvely thought that they were past having to do that for each other. That they were past lying to one another.

Her throat is sore and there are already fingerprints on her upper arms. She shivers violently and reaches to make the water hotter, possibly too hot for her frozen body but the scalding heat feels good. It feels as if she’s washing something away, even if she doesn’t have the full memory of it.

As the monotonous days go by, she can feel the color bleeding from the world. It’s just the same thing, every day. Guy looking at her with a mild form of disgust after her transgression, straightening her hair within an inch of its life or wearing it up in a tight bun for work. The same pants and blouse outfit, with only the pastel colors of the blouse varying or the occasional skirt thrown in to make it look like she wasn’t falling apart at the seams. Going from work to home, work to home, work to home.

Guy has forbidden her from going anywhere other than work and straight home, even going so far as to stay in most nights with her. He’d even started reminding her who the dominant one in their relationship was most nights. Where was this devotion a year ago? A half year ago? Why couldn’t he have shown how much he cared before? Even if that devotion came with marks easily hidden. As the color continues to bleed from the world around her, she tries to remind herself that of _course_ she loves Guy, and of _course_ he loves her back. Why would she still be with him otherwise?

But the world continues to hemorrhage color until there’s almost nothing left. The monotony is killing her. And the repression is killing the others, even if she’s unaware of it.

A week after the color has bled from the world, she’s barely holding on. She’s even resorted to using a small recorder during her sessions with her patients. She’s barely able to hold it together. By that point, she was at such a low point, she couldn’t be _bothered_ taking notes anymore.

“…DOCTOR!” is said with some force during one of her sessions. She has to shake her head, and it takes longer than it should to remember where she is, with whom she was speaking. Pamela Isley is looking at her strangely when she asks, “Is it me?”

Harleen looks at her in confusion. “Wha…what?” she stammers.

Pamela cocks her head as she says “Your hormones are elevated…every time you smile, you blush.” Smiling coyly at her, and leaning forward as much as the restraints will allow, Ivy continues. “Usually, I have to kiss a person to elicit such a response…so I’m wondering whether my abilities have…evolved, or if there’s something else going on?”

Harleen looks at Pamela for a moment before remembering what she was thinking about in her daze. When she does, the blush that must have already been across her cheeks floods out to her ears and down her chest.

“Oh. Uh…um…no. But I think we’re done here for today.” Rushing out of her chair to the door, she’s almost completely out before she leans back in, looks at Pamela and sheepishly says, “Thank you, Ms. Isley.”

She rushes to her office, deposits her coat, sends a quick note to HR about feeling ill and needing to leave for the day, and is out the door in record time. She knows Guy is clocking her, making sure she’s coming directly home after work with no pitstops, but she should have time, right? She hasn’t even been at work half the day yet. That should give her plenty of time she thinks excitedly.

She takes the metro down to the club and can only pray that he’s there. He’s a busy Gotham supervillain, why would he still be at the same club she’d found him at last time?

As soon as she walks through the doors of Grin and Bare It, she looks around hopefully. She’s not sure what she’s hoping to find, but the girls moving their hips lazily to a mostly empty room is not it. But then she spots Johnny by that same back door and can’t hide the smile that spreads across her face.

xxxxxx

Frost sees the girl from a couple of weeks ago the instant she walks into the club and can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. _Great_ , he thinks, _Now the Boss is gonna be even more difficult than usual…again_! The Joker had just gotten back to his normal standard of crazy and all of the hard work Frost had put in to get him there was about to be ruined by this skinny waif walking towards him.

After she’d left it had started out business as usual, but a few days after he’d taken her home, the Boss had started getting antsy. “Get a dossier on her,” he’d been told. “Get everything that’s _not_ in the dossier on her, including session tapes with patients,” he’d been told. “Watch her,” he’d been told.

After the first week when she hadn’t come back, Boss got a bit twitchy. Would shoot the henchmen for even less reason than normal, sometimes just for looking at him at the wrong moment. _Fuck_ , Johnny thinks. He’d gotten the boss different drugs, everything he could get his hands on, and nothing worked. He’d even gotten the Boss to try other women, and even though the Boss would seem fine for a bit after, he’d get twitchy again real quick. Like nothing could hold his attention the way this Doc could. Not even the basement of their main hideout held Boss’s attention. Not the chemical concoctions he was perfecting or the torture or the planning. _NOTHING!_ Boss had _just_ started to get less twitchy, like he was finally losing whatever itch it was she’d left under the skin.

And in she walks to ruin it. _Why couldn’t she just be like any other broad?_ he can’t help but think. _It used to be simple. Never the same one twice. Now we’re gonna have a twitchy Joker. Thanks, lady._

Making sure his face is a mask of boredom when she comes over, he waits for her to ask him if “J” is in _(ugh! She’s already on a damn nickname basis with him! She’s never going away now!)_ before letting her know that he’ll check.

Trudging up the stairs, he knocks on the Boss’s door and waits for the signal to enter, going in as soon as he receives it and closing the door behind him. He finds Joker staring intently at the computer screens in front of him, which no doubt already have the security feed pulled up. Sighing internally at what he knows is about to happen, he still asks the question he knows he’s expected to ask: “Boss. Miss Quinzel is here, want me to send her up?”

When Joker looks up at him, Frost can see that his Boss is back in top form. He is in his full Joker manic glory and if it took Miss Quinzel to bring that back, then so be it. _So bloody fucking be it._

Cracking his widest Joker grin, more teeth than smile, Boss rubs his hands together and tells Frost to bring her up.

Knowing a dismissal when he hears it, he walks back towards the door as if leaving the presence of Royalty ( _because, really, wasn’t Joker the Clown Prince of Crime and thus royalty?)_ , and quickly goes back down to let the broad up.

xxxxxx

Harleen skips up the steps behind Johnny as he leads her directly to the office, watching as his shoulders tense at each click of her heels. She can’t help the excitement bubbling up inside, even if the world is still distressingly lacking in color. Once they reach the top, she pauses, straightening the blouse and skirt she’d had the brilliance to wear today, trying to look as put together as possible and as if she _hadn’t_ just been skipping up the steps.

As soon as she steps from behind Johnny, her gaze zeros in on Joker sitting behind a desk strewn with paperwork and monitors. For the life of her, she can’t remember if there had been computer monitors last time she was here. Had there been electronics strewn across the floor as well as paperwork when she’d left? He is in his full Joker glory with silver grill, bright green hair slicked back and cut short on the sides, dark red lips, and bright white shirt left open to his mid-chest. She can see the suit jacket and bright purple gun holster on the chair behind him, and they look so flashy that only someone like J could pull them off.

The world seems to pop back into technicolor at the sight of him. It’s as if she can hear the _crackle_ and _pop_ of her brain accepting colors again, and it makes her pause just inside the door. The mere _sight_ of him has brought color back to the world. What might his touch bring with it? The thought galvanizes her into walking towards him finally, a small shy smile on her face.

As he stands from his chair and walks towards her, Harleen can feel Harley in the background sitting up straighter, preening at the look that he’s giving them and she finds herself having to fight to keep control. He’s smiling like the cat that caught the canary and received cream for his prowess. Big and toothy and real. So very real, and colorful.

“Why, Doc _tor_ Quin _zel_ , how good to see you again!”

She’s not sure how she can tell, but the way he’s looking at her as he slowly stalks towards her makes her feel _seen_. As if he’s taking the time and seeing _inside_ of her. The real, full her, rather than the version she tries to show the world.

Finally losing the battle within herself, she lets Harley take control and sits back to watch. She wants to let the crazy out. She needs to see what he’ll do with it. She _craves_ the acceptance of her whole self.

She’s stunned when the smile on his face gets wider, as if he can tell that there’s been a switch and he’s _pleased_ with it.

“ _There_ she is,” he says as he claps his hands together.

“It’s only fair, after all, for everyone to get the chance to play, hmm?” he asks as he playfully boops her nose. Who would have ever thought having her nose booped like a small child would please them so damn much?

He reaches up and touches the top of her hair, running his hand through the crown of her head and Harley flinches violently away. _NO! Not from him!_ is screamed in her head. She can feel the ache in her throat and the marks on her arms constantly made fresh. _He’s different_ , is mumbled in her head, but the feelings are still too fresh. She can feel the violent need to breathe and knows what’s coming next. She can see the color hemorrhaging from the world again but faster this time, and she stands there shaking, not knowing what to do now, how to get out of this cycle of thought.

She lowers her head, staring at the hands being wrung in front of her waist, unsure of how to proceed, but knowing that something needs to be done.

xxxxxx

The violence of her flinging herself away from him is shocking. The moment he’d run his hands through the top of her hair she’d practically jumped across the room to get away, as if an electric current had been running through his hand. Before she looks down, he can see something haunting in her eyes, and he knows it’s not the various facets of her personality fractured inside of her. This, this is something darker, something done _to_ her, and done to her _recently_. The thought that someone has made that look in her eyes appear makes him angry, oh so _very_ angry.

She begins to stammer an apology, wringing her hands, clearly believing that not wanting to be touched is a crime. The thought that someone has made this amazingly strong, resilient creature flinch since the last time he saw her makes him murderous. Her strength should be nurtured, not torn down the way he is finally seeing that it has been.

She continues to stammer and takes desperate breaths, as if she’s unable to get enough air. She rubs at her throat as if trying to dispel whatever has made her suddenly like this, and it makes the edges of his vision go slightly red with rage.

Walking slowly towards her as if approaching a wild animal, he telegraphs each move, giving her time to flit away if need be. She holds her ground though, so _some_ steel must be left in her body, and it makes his cold dead heart pound unexpectedly.

xxxxxx

“I’m going to remove the pins from your hair, Harley, and then I’m going to touch your temple and run my hands through your hair,” he tells her slowly.

Nodding her head, she stands still, trying not to shake as he gets close enough to hurt her. She tries to remind herself that he hadn’t hurt her last time, even after she’d figured out who he really was, but the thought did little to help the shaking. She _hated_ being this weak, especially in front of Joker, but she couldn’t get the pain in her throat to subside enough to let her _think_.

He has the pins removed from her hair in short order and reaches up to her temple with his fingertips, just like he said he would. His movements are still slow, allowing her to move away at any point and that thought is what finally settles her body. When he runs his fingers from her temple through her hair towards the base of her skull, staying far from the top of her head, she leans into the touch. Finally looking up at him, she gives him a small smile to let him know she’s back with him.

“Mistah J?” she quietly asks.

“Anything Harley,” he says in a growley voice. It sounds like he’s trying to repress the growl, and it makes her smile a bit wider and with a bit more confidence, knowing that the growl isn’t towards _her_ but the phantoms within her mind.

“I’d like ya to kiss me now,” she tells him, leaning into the hand now resting in her hair. She loves that he’s still waiting for permission to continue. That he’s giving her the choice of what she wants. So unlike Guy, who is never anything but demanding.

Joker’s other hand reaches up to gently touch her neck, leisurely pulling her towards him. Once her body is flush with his, he leans in slowly, oh so slowly, to begin kissing her. But she can still feel him holding back, like he’s afraid she’ll leave and doesn’t want to scare her away. Smiling into the kiss, she grabs on to his hips and runs her tongue along the seam of his mouth, begging entrance. As soon as he lets her in, she languidly runs her tongue along his upper teeth, enjoying the feel of the metal and bone mixed together, and lets her tongue explore the roof of his mouth, letting the pad of her tongue scrape against his teeth. After letting her explore for a minute, he moves his hand from her neck to the small of her back and pulls her tighter against him as he moves his tongue to caress hers. She relishes the feel of his tongue moving against hers, the feel of it stroking back and forth, giving her a prelude to what could come next.

Moaning low in her throat, she uses the hands on his hips to slowly walk him back to where she vaguely remembers his desk chair being. Taking the hint, he moves them in a slightly different direction, directly to the path of the chair. Even knowing where it must be, he still slams the back of his knees into it and sits heavily on the chair, losing contact with her. She smiles at the ungraceful fall and his slight annoyance, and slowly lowers herself onto his lap, straddling his hips and allowing her skirt to ride up to her hips.

Placing his hands on her hips, he leans back before she can lean in for a kiss and asks, “What do you want to do Harley?” The way he asks it sounds like he’s giving her complete control. _Control_. Something her life had felt like it was lacking of late. Something she needed sorely after the recent experiences with Guy. She knew Joker was a man that must love control, yet he was giving it to her.

Shaking her head, she flounders for a moment. “I don’t know. I just…I just needed color. It’s been bleeding out, and nothing seems like it’s had any _substance_ since I left here. I need _you_ ,” she tries to explain.

xxxxxx

He tries not to preen. He really does. But those words, that she _needs_ him, send wracking spasms of pleasure through him.

“Okay doll, okay. How about we do this.” Running both hands through her hair from her temple, he ruffles it out a bit and pushes it behind her shoulders as he says, “We start slow and see where you lead us.” He can feel her need for control, and he plans to give her everything she may need. He knows when restraint is necessary, and it is very much called for in this case. Something had happened since he’d seen her last, something dramatic enough to put fear into her eyes, and he needed to show her that he was nothing like that. He may be a murder of Robins and a breaker of Girl Bat backs, but he wasn’t a complete monster, no matter what the media said. Somehow, the minx had wormed her way into his head and had the unenviable position of having made his non-existent heart beat, and he would show her that he would not hurt her.

If giving her complete control worked towards that goal, then it would be hers.

xxxxxx

Leaning in to kiss him slowly, Harley wraps herself as tightly as she can around Joker. Hands going through his hair, legs pressed tight to his hips, chest pressed against chest. She can practically feel the color bleeding into her from the warmth of his body. She can feel it wrapping around her, enveloping her in its sweet embrace, and it makes her moan at the feeling.

The feeling of his hard length pressing against her center has her hips starting a grinding motion that matches the unhurried speed of her tongue delving in and out of his mouth. With each movement of her hips, she can feel the thin strip of fabric against her opening rubbing, causing delicious friction. And if the feel of his hands tightening on her hips and the growl building low in his throat is anything to go by, he’s feeling the same amazing build-up of tension.

Running her hands slowly from the base of his skull down his neck to his chest, she begins unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, letting her nails scrape against his skin once she has it fully open. Pulling the tails from his pants, she pushes it off of his shoulders and makes quick work of her blouse, only needing to separate their mouths for a moment to pull it over her head and fling it behind him. As she reaches for her bra, J finally stops her with his hands, gently pulling hers away. Sitting back, he gives her a crooked smile and purrs, “Let me.” That purr has her trembling in delight and lets her know how much enjoyment it’s about to give him as she quickly acquiesces.

Unhooking the back, he slowly reaches for the straps, letting his fingers run under them, his knuckles grazing her skin before slowly peeling the straps down her arms. The sensation of his knuckles caressing her skin sends shivers down her body and as her head tilts back at the feeling, he leans in to press a gentle kiss to her neck. He makes his way down towards her clavicles, licking and nibbling until he reaches the top of her breast.

“Move for me, baby,” he whispers against her skin.

As soon as she starts moving her hips back and forth, he attaches his lips to her areola. His tongue flicks the pebbled tip, sucking on her nipple while his hand begins to pinch and pull at the other nipple. A sound between a moan and a shout is practically torn from her throat at the sensations from his devious fingers and mouth. As he gently bites down on the sensitive tip of her nipple, his unoccupied fingers reach between them and, moving the thin lace aside, starts to stroke her clit. This time she shouts out an unintelligible word at the pleasure and pain he’s giving her. Tightening her hands in his hair, she moves her hips against his fingers, trying to keep her top half stationary so that he can continue his ministrations to her nipples with little effort.

“Scream for me Harley,” is rumbled against her nipple. Using those cunning fingers to flick her clit harder and faster while at the same time sucking and pinching her nipples has her crying out again and again, “Oh God, please, Mistah J, _please_ , fuck, there, _oh god please_.”

She can feel herself getting close when he pushes two fingers into her wet heat while flicking her clit with his thumb and switching his mouth to lavish her other breast. She practically bucks her hips against his hand, crying out her pleasure. It doesn’t take long before she shudders around him, throwing her head back and silently screaming at the ceiling, her vaginal walls tighten around him as she comes, her hands practically pulling strands out of his head. She feels weightless for a moment, and wonders at the starbursts of color surrounding her.

xxxxxx

Joker slows his movements, not wanting to completely ring her out just yet, but wanting more of those breathy little noises she’s making. He moves his mouth slowly back up across her chest to her clavicles, up her neck, and finally to her mouth, languidly kissing her as he removes his fingers from her oversensitive folds, running his hands up her lithe body to settle on her gorgeous ribcage. He lazily rubs his thumbs in circles on her ribs as he lets her come back down to earth. Not moving his hips under her is torture, and is a lesson in restraint he hadn’t thought he’d needed.

Finally removing her mouth from his, her lower body starts to undulate against him and she practically slurs, “I need you inside me Mistah J. I need you inside me real bad.”

“Baby, I was just inside of you,” he purrs, rubbing circles into her ribcage with his thumbs, trying not to smirk at her clear frustration. He’d rather have her sated but frustrated than scared. To have the fearless creature in front of him flinch from him was something he never wanted to see again.

Slowly kissing the junction of her jaw and neck, right over the artery, he whispers into her skin, “If you want me back inside of you, I need the skirt off Harley. I need to see how much you enjoy it as you move. I need to see our bodies moving against each other.”

Placing his hands on her hips, he helps her awkwardly back off his lap to stand in front of him. In one swift move, he pulls her skirt and underwear down together and throws them over his shoulder to land somewhere behind him. Before she can sit back down, he can’t help but still her with one hand on her hip while the other one splays against her stomach, looking her up and down.

“You are absolutely magnificent. Both of you.”

She looks down at her feet for a moment before stammering, “There’s…there’s three of us, but we don’t really let the other one out.” A flush creeps across her skin as she whispers, “She’s not…she’s…she’s _dangerous_.”

He can’t help the purr that comes into his voice when he says, “Oh, I think I’d like to meet her at some point. Very much so.” The blush of her skin intensifies as if all three personalities are pleased by this and he can practically hear the ‘aw shucks’ running through her head.

Opening his legs wide, he uses the hand still on her hips to coax her between them. He uses one hand to stroke from her breastbone down the flat plane of her belly, finally reaching down to stroke her still-sensitive folds, bringing her back to the knife’s edge of pleasure. As he continues to play with the folds of her opening, he lavishes her ribs, sternum, and belly with open-mouthed kisses, letting his tongue play with the skin at every spot. He pays special attention to the ridiculous dolphin tattoo on her left hip, and noticing one of his marks from last time somehow still very faintly on her hips, he leans down to suck at the spot, pleased to make a new mark over the original, not far from that lone tattoo. She whimpers and puts her hands on his shoulders to keep herself steady, digging her nails into him.

At her whimper and the pleasure-pain of her nails, J quickly leans back, flicking opens his pants and pulling them and his boxers down his hips to his knees, freeing his erection. As he lifts his hips to pull the pants down, her eyes lock onto his freed erection and she licks her lips at the sight, sucking that plump lower lip into her mouth.

But suddenly, her eyes get a far-away look, and the haunted expression returns. She clutches her neck while looking down at him, clearly trying to breathe through whatever memory has her.

Grabbing her roughly by the hips, he shakes her gently, growling, “Harley, come back. You’re here, with me.” He can see her start to come back to him, and he encourages her, putting a purr in his voice as he tells her, “Listen to my voice doll-face. Come back to me in the here and now. That’s it. Whatever you think it is, it’s just a memory, it can’t hurt you while you’re here.”

“Mistah J,” is whispered as she looks at his face, clearly trying to determine how mad the lapse has made him.

Smiling gently at her, he purrs, “Come back to me doll,” as he pats his lap.

Shaking her head to dispel whatever it is she was seeing and coming back to the here and now, she climbs back onto his lap, straddling him so that his cock is resting between them. The feel of her clit moving against him with each breath she takes is exquisite torture. Slowly reaching up so that she can see his hands coming, he cups her face and brings it down to his mouth. Using his teeth to gently nibble at her lips, he whispers into her mouth, “Stay with me doll.”

Sighing against him, she buries her head in his shoulder for a moment before murmuring, “I’m here Mistah J, I’m here,” and kisses his jaw.

Reaching between them, she runs her fingers lightly down his hard shaft and uses the top of her thumb to rub back and forth across the slit at the head. At the feel of her fisting his member and running her hand slowly up and down, a moan slips through his lips that sounds suspiciously like her name.

 _Oh God, so slow, too slow_ , he thinks. Reaching down to her amazing ass with both hands, he gets a firm handhold on either side and pulls outwards, kneading each side. The feel of her plump ass in his hands and her fisting his cock up and down has him moaning into her ear, “Harley, inside of you. I need inside of you.”

Using one hand on his shoulder to keep herself steady, she raises on her knees a bit and uses the other hand to keep _him_ steady as she slowly lowers herself onto his shaft. He hisses at the feel of her tight cunt gripping him, digging his fingers into her ass to steady himself. He holds back with everything he’s worth, letting her take control of the situation and forcing himself not to simply pump his hips up into her, no matter how much he needs to. Once she is fully seated on his cock, she sits there for a moment readjusting herself to his size and leans in to kiss his shoulder and collarbone, focusing her attention on the _all-in_ tattoo on his neck and the laughter that runs down his chest. The feel of her tightening around him but not moving is delightfully excruciatingly, but he needs _movement._

Before he can disgrace himself further by begging her to move, she whispers in his ear, “The feel of you, Joker…the feel of you stretching me out is heaven.” He shudders at the words, letting his nails drag along the flesh of her ass.

Finally, she begins to move above him, rocking her hips back and forth, slowly gaining the feel of the power that she holds over him. Does she realize that power goes deeper than this moment? Can she feel herself worming her way into his soul? Wrapping him around her delicate fingers?

He growls, coming back to the moment, her hips rocking back and forth, gaining speed. Smiling her own crazed smile, she raises up on her knees and rams back down onto him as if to prove that yes, she does feel that power and will take it, thank you very much. The feel of almost sliding out of her as she raises to her knees is agony, but the feel of that perfect wet heat ramming back down onto him is bliss, and he can’t decide which he likes more – the pain or the pleasure.

Looking down at their joining bodies, he growls at the sight of her pussy moving up and down his shaft. The violence of her movements is striking yet another gong in the soul he was sure he didn’t have. That he was _sure_ he’d lost in the chemical bath all those years ago. His nails dig into the crease of her ass harder for a moment at the thought, and he has to force his fingers to loosen their hold lest he hurt her.

Taking one hand from the perfection that is her ass, he reaches between them to find her clit as she comes down on him next. Her pace stutters at the feel of his thumb finding that sensitive bud, but she regains her momentum quickly enough. He can feel one of her hands exploring his upper body, tracing the tattoos that she can find before finally settling back on his shoulder while the other plays with his hair. What is with this woman and playing with his hair? At the rate she pulls at it, he’ll be bald within the year!

He can’t help laugh at the absurdity of _wanting_ to keep _anyone_ around for a year, let alone a _woman_.

At the feel of the tremors his laugh sends through his erection and into her walls, she shudders and moans. He continues rubbing that little buddle of nerves as she rocks against him, trying to re-find her rhythm but not quite getting there.

“Please J, please, I need to come,” she practically sobs finally. “I need you deeper, and I can’t…quite…get…there,” she pants between her movements, which seem to get jerkier and jerkier.

“Such a good girl that you remembered to not come without permission,” he purrs. He may be giving her the majority of the control, but _gods_ , there’s only so much he can give.

Placing both hands firmly on her ass, he stands from the chair, making sure that they stay connected. “I believe your counterpart requested the wall after the desk last time you were here. Now, lock your legs around me, Harl, we’re going for a walk,” he whispers into her ear as he toes off his shoes and kicks his pants off, walking towards the long glass wall. She giggles breathlessly the whole way there, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to tug at his earlobe with her teeth.

Slamming her back against the glass wall he readjusts his hold on her, hooking his forearms under her knees to get a better grip and using the wall as a hand-hold. Not wasting any time, he begins to jut his hips forward, slamming into her roughly, pushing her tightly between his body and the glass. He can feel her ass slamming into him with each thrust and as he picks up a rhythm, he can hear little breathy noises being pulled from Harley’s throat.

“There, oh god, there,” is practically torn from her throat as he hits her cervix, running over that specific spot inside of her.

Joker can hear the glass rattling with each thrust and smiles knowing that everyone down below knows exactly what is happening. Even if they can’t see anything through the one-way glass, they’ll know what those rattling thumps interspersed with the music are. It feels like laying claim to the magnificent creature currently kissing and sucking her way across his shoulder blades. Showing more clearly than the lipstick marks across her body that the anonymous woman that went through the back door is now his. The only thing that could possibly lay claim better than this was putting his name on her body in ink.

Now _there_ was an idea!

Joker can feel his body begin to tighten at the thought of his name written in bold black letters across her body. He didn’t think it possible, but his body begins to push into her harder, growls being ripped from his throat without his say-so.

“Come for me, Harley. Tell me you’re mine,” he rumbles into her hair as he hits that spot again and again inside of her. Just as he feels himself tighten to the point of pain, she goes taut as a bowstring, head slamming back into the glass, screaming his name at the top of her lungs as if he is the answer to her prayers, screaming that yes, yes, she’s his! Continuing to slam into her through his own orgasm, he can’t help her name slipping from his lips as well, barely more than an incoherent growl as her body milks him for all he’s worth. Heads on each other’s shoulder, they stand there entwined for a moment, letting their breathing normalize.

Finally opening his eyes, he looks down at the arm still entwined around his neck, intending to kiss it, and notices the ugly days-old yellow and green marks on her upper arms. He is quickly hurtled away from the post-sex haze by the sight of those marks. Clearly not marks of passion, they look like ownership marks. Like marks that are trying to prove something to the receiver. Like they _hurt_ when they were made, and not the pain-pleasure hurt that he and Harley have been passing back and forth, but the kind of pain that would have his fearless creature flinching. That would have this daring creature rubbing her throat and swallowing convulsively.

As he slowly lowers her to her feet, she tries to stay wrapped around his neck as long as possible, but she’s just too damn tiny. Finally standing in front of him, her body still pressed between him and the wall, she rests her head on his chest, reaching down to play with the tattoo on the side of his ribs, trying to stay in her lazy post-mind-blowing-sex-haze as long as possible.

Trying not to let his anger show, he lightly runs his hand across the yellowing marks as he asks, “Harley, who made these?” He can feel the angry growl in the words, but tries not to show it in his body language. He’d let the far-away looks pass without comment. He’d let the fear in her eyes and throat-rubbing pass without comment. He’d let her flinching from _him_ pass without comment. But this, these marks, are his breaking point.

“Please, don’t be angry with me. They were…they were nothing.” Shaking her head, he can hear her thick swallow as she tries to think of an explanation on the fly. “I just…I just fell. I’m clumsy like that, ya know?”

He doesn’t believe her for a second. Not the formerly Olympic-level gymnast that he previously saw hanging upside down by nothing but a few flimsy strips of cloth and her own prowess. But how to push it without her flinching from him again? It would make sense why she flinched from the touch to her head earlier, but who would _dare_ touch this woman?

“Does Harleen know what happened?” he asks as he takes a step back from her. He needs space, and to remember that it would _not_ be smart to punch the glass wall behind her in his rage.

Grabbing on to his left bicep, she tries to hold him where he is as she violently shakes her head.

“Harleen _can’t_ know.” She violently shakes her head again, gripping his arm tighter, digging in with her nails. “It would…it would break her.”

She pauses, and then cocking her head, giggles as she says, “Well, more than it already has I suppose!” The giggles become manic, her body shaking with the force of them until they quickly devolve into wracking sobs. The hand wrapped around his bicep feels like she’s using it as an anchor as she continues to shake her head aggressively.

Grabbing her face between his hands, he forces her to look at him through her sobs. “Harley, I need you to look at me right now doll,” he growls. “You’re here. You’re with one of the scariest motherfuckers in Gotham, besides the Bat. I’m not going to hurt you.” At this, he flashes his grill in a semblance of a smile, though it’s more a baring of teeth. He even snaps his teeth together for good measure while using his thumbs to gently wipe some of her tears away.

As the minutes tick by, he can feel her body start to relax again, her head leaning into the hands cupping her face. Like she knows he’s angry, though not really at her, and she’s able to accept that side of him. That dangerous, on-the-edge-of-murder side of him.

How the fuck was he supposed to let her go back to whatever was happening in her life? How was he expected to _know_ what to do? He wasn’t even supposed to _have_ emotions, let alone give a shit about anyone. This was new. This was foreign. This was making him _distinctly_ uncomfortable. He was a bloody sociopathic gangster that killed at will and sowed seeds of chaos throughout Gotham. He was an idea. A state of _mind._ _He_ wasn’t supposed to _want_ to protect this tiny ferocious being.

“Tell me what happened Harley. The truth.” Joker can’t help breaking away from her and pacing a few steps, running his hands furiously through his hair.

“No. It doesn’t matter. We don’t want to talk about it, and it’s not like we can change anything right now, especially while still protecting Harleen.” Raking her hands through her own hair, she looks at him plaintively and growls at him. “You’re…you’re separate from all of that, and we need that. _Harleen_ needs that.”

He can see the switch in her eyes when she goes from Harley to Harleen. The little _witch_ had effectively ended the conversation and made sure he wouldn’t push. Dirty little sneaky minx. Brilliant dirty sneaky little minx. He can’t help but be proud of the vixen at her sneakiness. Harleen cocks her head at him when she says, “You look angry. But not angry at me angry, angry at someone else kind of angry. Did we say something? I feel like I’m missing a moment from there to here. Am I missing something?” she gesticulates wildly.

Rubbing the back of his neck and smiling ruefully, because really, what the fuck else was he supposed to do, he stalks back to her, running his hands through her messy hair and pulling her close. “Nothing, Harl, you didn’t miss anything. You’re absolutely perfect.” He’s not sure why he needs to praise her, to see her smile, but he does. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the sex? He scoffs at himself. This broad has tangled his mind so far up and down and around, and he’s not sure he really wants to get her out.

She smiles up at him as if he’s made her entire year with the compliment alone, and reaching up she kisses him slowly, as if this moment is important somehow. As if the mind-blowing sex and the earth-shattering orgasms were only a prelude to this moment.

“Thank you, for the splash of color,” she whispers against his lips, making something inside of him shudder. He pulls her still naked body tighter against his, needing her not to say what he knows is coming. If he can just remind her that she’s needed _here_ , rather than _there_ , maybe she won’t keep talking. Pulling her as close as he can physically get her with hands splayed out across her hips and back, he smashes his lips against hers, letting all of his frustrations and confusion bleed out through the tongue that he uses to remind her where she belongs. He may not understand it, but she _belongs_ _here_.

xxxxxx

But of course he knows he can’t keep her. She can see it in the angry set of his eyes when she looks at him. She keeps her eyes locked with his throughout his dominating kiss, needing to show him that she _sees_ him, just as readily as he sees her, and she will not back down. She is not afraid of him, even if she knows she _should_ be.

This man, this gangster, this baby-bat killer, this prince of crime, is _hers_. In a way she didn’t think was possible. In a way that she didn’t think she _needed_. So she helps to deepen the kiss and lifts one leg up to lock around his ass, using her body to pull him that small bit closer. She can’t let him go yet, even if she knows she needs to. She can hear a growl building in his chest as he stares at her through the kiss. But she knows she needs to go; that this moment has to end, that she has to go back to reality…no matter how much she may not want to.

After giving him the moment he needs, the moment they both need, of _course_ she has to keep talking. “I gotta go. I’m expected back soon.” Letting her leg drop, she stands on her tiptoes, leaning her forehead against his and tracing the planes of his face with her fingertips. She doesn’t know how to let go quite yet but knows that the time is coming soon. His face leans into her questing fingers and she can feel a purr rumbling in his chest.

After a moment of reveling in that purr, she makes a frustrated noise, tearing herself away from him before she can start anything new, and walks to her clothes, muttering, “We’re not _allowed_. We’re not _good enough_ , remember?”

xxxxxx

He can hear her muttering across the room, clearly having a heated argument with the others in her head even if he can’t hear exactly what she’s saying. Shaking his head and smiling like an idiot, he grabs his pants, slipping them on before going to his desk to rifle through the drawers. Finally finding the cell phone he had prepared for her, he walks over to the muttering half-dressed creature and stands behind her for a second before putting a hand on her hip and pulling her back to his front.

Reaching around to splay his hands on her still-bare stomach, he leans his chin on her shoulder, knowing that the moment won’t last.

“We _can’t_ ,” she whispers, putting her hands over his before running her fingers up and down his forearms.

“I know doll,” he whispers back, kissing her shoulder gently. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he holds it up in front of her so that she can take it. The thing is a ridiculously shiny purple that reminds him of the customized Lamborghini in the garage, and he can see the smile spread across her face as she realizes it’s a way to keep in touch with him.

“Yeah?” she asks equal parts hesitation and excitement.

“Yeah,” he repeats, needing to see that smile again. He can practically feel the excitement vibrating through her body as she takes it and stuffs it into the side of her bra. Keeping one hand splayed on her stomach, the other begins to trace the edges of the bright purple bra before it delves into one of the cups and pinches her nipple. Her body arches under his fingers and he can hear little whimpers being dragged from her throat.

Kissing his way up her neck, he pulls at the lobe of her ear gently with his teeth and rumbles, “Mine and Johnny’s numbers are in there. Text before you come next time, I’m not usually here,” before stepping away.

She whimpers in earnest at the loss of his body, and that whimper feels like a piece of his soul shattering. Her entire body shudders for a moment before she shakes her head and continues to get dressed. He leans on the edge of the desk, waiting for her to finish and come to him.

When she does finally come to him, she leans into him, resting her forehead against his as if getting this close to the door is already exhausting. Running his thumb along her lower lip, he pulls it gently down as he lets his hand follow her chin down towards her neck. Letting his hand come to rest there for a moment, he slides it around to the base of her skull to pull her to him for a final kiss.

As with everything else to do with this complex woman, after only a moment he loses control of a kiss that was supposed to be chaste and simple. Her hands thread through his hair, pulling gently at the small strands as she sucks his lower lip, teeth pulling down gently with a growl coming from her throat. Her tongue licks the seams of his lips, begging for entrance with a mumbled, “Not ready yet.”

He readily opens to her demanding mouth and greedily delves his tongue into her mouth, trying to reassert some form of dominance into this dance they seem to be playing. He feels her acquiescence when she practically melts into his body, trying to reach into his soul one last time. He can feel it, those nimble fingers of hers reaching for the tattered bits of his soul, trying to pull them towards herself, trying to repair something irreparable.

Suddenly fisting her hand in his hair, she forcefully pulls his head back and nips his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, while her other hand delves into his pants pocket, stroking him through the thin fabric. He sees the violence simmering under her skin as she smirks at him and slowly licks the drops of blood that have welled against his lip. _Well, hello there unnamed little one_ he thinks as he smirks right back at her, letting her know he looks forward to the violence simmering behind those innocent baby blues.

Running the hand not still fisted in his hair from his Adam’s apple up to his chin, she leans in and whispers, “Until next time, Joker.”

Trying not to shudder at the pleasure and violence promised in that voice, he bares his teeth in a semblance of a smile. She forcefully pushes herself away from him, grabs her bag, and begins walking away from him.

“See you soon, little one,” he growls when she’s half-way to the door.

Turning around to look at him one last time, she smiles toothily and tells him, “Harlequin. My name is Harlequin.” Putting her finger to her lips, she makes a “shhh” sound, letting him know that it’s a secret. Their secret? A secret the others aren’t privy to? Or simply a secret in general?

By the time he can think to ask, she’s slipped from the room like a wraith, barely a noise made even in the five-inch heels that should have clacked and clicked the whole way to the door.

Oh, he looked forward to a further acquaintance with Harlequin. He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips at the thought. Even feeling that his switchblade is gone from his pocket doesn’t stop the laughter.

Maybe he needed a good stay in Arkham, at the rate his thoughts were fraying. It had been too long since his last visit, and it felt like it had been even longer since he’d last played with the Bat- _man_. Maybe there would even be a new Baby Bat to sawt around!

Clapping his hands together, he cackled and put his shirt back on. There were plans to be made, and preparations that would need to be made if fun was to be had.

Oh yes, there was fun ahead, so very much fun.

_El Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments! Anything and everything! If you're not sure you want to leave comments, you can always reach out to the email address in my profile! Comments help to make sure I get better, so you shooooooooould!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please let me know what you thought - kudos and comments go a long way!  
> Any kind of feedback is appreciated, even if it's not great! You can always send me an email as well if you're nervous about posting here!


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